Uncanny HTF Showdown
by Phoenix Reece
Summary: What happens when you take the most deadly Happy Tree Friends with some of the weakest? Amazing fights that end in ways you'd never believe. Chapter Five, Sea Captain's Lament, is out!
1. Blind to the Truth

**Author's Note**

I've decided to pick a few fights between our favorite "Cute, Cuddly, and Horribly Wrong" animals, but I'm doing this in an inventive way. I'm pairing people you all want to see fight, with people you wouldn't think would stand a chance, and making it awesome. This will be the first in such a series, and I will continue it if A) people enjoy and REVIEW. This may seem odd and narcissistic, but if you like a story, than you should have no problem telling me what you think, and B) I can think of more fights. It's hard to be creative!

**Fight One: Blind to the Truth (Splendid VS The Mole)**

_Mole's Journal Dec 13, 2005_

_Night, a dark, cloudless abyss due to the smog of the nearby factory, my target. Disgusting, the greed of the man who runs it. Tall, suited, Mr. Big, goes by Lumpy. Pollutes the land and extorts other countries labor. This is his HQ. Funny, even his business center is destroying this world. He makes sure even his office buildings turn a profit, this one is part mass production factory. He dabbles in all those sickening businesses, toys, suits, luxury items. Even rumors that he's tried a hand at genetics. Anything that will sell, and cuts corners and stuffs pockets to make it happen. I feel like I'm going to vomit just thinking of the things he killed, business he bankrupted, families he's driven into poverty, forests and lakes all destroyed for a quick buck. And the worst part of it is, the families fuel their own destruction. Right around now, Christmas time, people buy, buy, buy from Jolly ol' Mr. Lumpy. Toss a penny in his hat, play on maestro, play on. They won't be so eager to pay when they see the orchestra chained to the floors of their cells, starving to death. They say you work better when you're hungry, must be Lumpy's motto._

_-The Mole_

The mole pulled his pen from his page, and stuffed it into one of the numerous pockets of his sweater along with the journal. From within another pocket, he took a locket. He flicked it open and felt the jade green gemstone inside longingly, trying to remember the picture inside. It was a pink chipmunk, and it pained him to think he could never see even her picture again. The night air was thick, but it didn't matter to him. His eyes couldn't tell if the air was green, but he guessed it was around. With a flick of his wrist, a collapsible cane flew from inside of his sweater to his waiting open palm. He unlocked a switch on the side and it flew open, and he took aim at the tall building a good thirty feet away from him, with a flash and a puff of smoke a claw attached to a nylon rope shot from the cane, it swung around an exposed pipe and raveled itself around until the metal hand clutched onto the pipe. The Mole gave a tug to see it was secure and swung from his perch, a tall, dead oak near the factory. The bottoms of his feet hit hard against the metal side of the building, and he began to climb sideways up the massive structure. He stopped right before reaching a window, a small barred square that he knew without seeing. He knew much of the lay of the land, his "eyes" in the organization had briefed him many times on what he would do. He touched a single finger to his face and pulled off a small black dot, placing it carefully on the bars. The dot flashed red for a few seconds, and gave out a nearly noiseless pop when it exploded. Silent bombs, a tool of the trade, and Mole's Favorite. He slid into the room he had just opened, a small, cell-like compartment, blocked off with a steel door. Mole placed another bomb on the door's lock, letting it swing open. The plan had worked perfectly, and he was now in the containment cells for Lumpy's 'workers.' He walked by the cells, taking a small disposable camera, and snapped pictures of the insides of each of the cells. Women, children, the old, the sick, none were exempt from labor at the factory. If Mole had seen their agony fatigued faces, he might have just vomited.

Making his way through the cell block, Mole had made it to the machinery portion of the factory, and over it hung a scaffold, and a large red door. That was where Lumpy supervised his workers, and where his office was. Soon enough he had made it into the office itself, blowing the locked door off with another Mole Bomb. Mole tapped his cane along the floor to find the solid ground, and tapped something with a metal echo, the file cabinet. He pulled it open and removed as many files as he could, spreading them out on the floor, snapping pictures of them, when he heard a snap and a voice call from behind. An unmistakable voice.

"Now, now, now, you really should respect other people's property, spy!" The voice was Splendid, the infamous superhero, who had saved millions and defended America for years, the snap was him turning on the lights, as he sat at Lumpy's desk waiting for the spy.

"I have been expecting guests though. My employer, Mr. Lumpy has told me he's had a problem with corporate spies selling his business secrets off to the highest bidder. Well, I'm afraid the law doesn't care much for espionage, and robbing an honest citizen of his money and secrets. So if you'll just come with me.."

"Honest citizen? You're twice as clueless as I thought," The Mole said, turning and aiming a revolver at the squirrel, "And Mr. Lumpy isn't the only one who's has something stolen from them."

"Come now, do you really think that will stop me?" Splendid laughed, a bullet exploded from the gun and bounced harmlessly against his chest. The Mole realized he had no choice but to run, and cut in the direction of the door. But, Splendid was too fast for him, and tackled The Mole out of the room and flew down to the factory floor, spy in hand. The Mole wouldn't give up here, and reached into his pocket to reveal a high powered Mole Bomb. He slapped it onto Splendid and the subsequent distraction allowed him to shake free. Splendid was blown in one direction across the still darkened factory, and The Mole darted into the mass of machines on the other end. Splendid steadied himself, and was soon in hot pursuit of The Mole. But, in the pitch black of the factory, even a super squirrel couldn't find the crafty Mole. Just when Splendid decided to give up the search, a voice echoed from all directions at him.

"Do you think you're a hero? Do you Splendid? Do you know that the government uses you?"

He backed up, shaken by his words, but called back "I am a hero! I save people!"

"Do you remember how you became a hero? Years and years ago? I learned about it, read things, you served in the army. Enlisted 1936, am I right?"

"How? How do you know all this?"

"Your Wife, and daughter. They came to visit you, a few years later. Pearl harbor, was it?" A shadow darted by, causing Splendid to jump, but he soon regained his composure.

"They were killed that day! Those Japanese bastards killed them!"

"And you went to war, just like they wanted you to. Did your revenge feel good? Did death justify death?"

Splendid began shaking; drowning in the flood of memories stifled away, "I fought for my country!"

"But, it wasn't enough was it? They knew you were loyal, you'd do anything to get some sick idea of justice, so you signed up for the "Manhattan" Project, the one designed to make you what you are today." The machines whirred to life, some unseen puppeteer making them spring alive to illustrate The Mole's point. An action figure of himself rolled to Splendid's feet.

"That's when you became a superhero, fought for years, not aging, not dying, and only killing. Is that you? I can't tell for sure…"

"I'm a hero! I save people's lives! I'm a good person!" Splendid shouted, his voice delirious.

"Do you, now? Did you save anyone two years ago? Hm? Do you remember the protest, at this very factory?"

"It was a riot! I did what I had to!"

"Did what you had to? You killed 23 people that day, it was a peaceful protest of this very factory. 23 killed, 46 wounded. One blinded." A small metal locket fell at Splendid's feet. He knelt down, and picked it up, tears in his eyes. He flipped it open and saw the small pink Chipmunk. On the other side was a small green gem that, unbeknownst to even the mole, was Kryptonut. He felt weakened, and deeply, deeply hurt when he stared into the little girl's eyes. She looked so much like his own daughter, back when he knew her.

"That's my niece, Giggles. You killed her breaking up the riot. You stole her from me, you stole my eyesight, and soon even my memories will fade of her." The mole stepped out into the open, and kept speaking to the Squirrel, "You've erased her from my life, and why? Did I kill your family? I didn't, and the Japanese didn't. I know government secrets; your family was killed by secret service agents, they never went to pearl harbor. They used your hate, made you their pawn, and tonight, made you protect a filthy man who stuffed the government execs pockets with money."

"No, it's... It's all true isn't it?" He looked up at the mole who answered him only with a nod. "But what can I do…" The mole walked up to him a placed a small bomb on his head. Splendid handed him back his locket, the kryptonut weakened him just enough to make him human, if only for a few minutes.

As the mole was walking away, he turned to the squirrel, the fallen hero. "Don't worry, the people don't know, you'll die a hero." A smile drew across Splendid's face and a single tear dropped from his eye as the Mole Bomb went off, killing the squirrel instantly. Without another word, The Mole left the factory, briefcase in hand.

…………….

The Beaver on the screen tapped the pile of papers on his desk, and stared into the camera. He began in a soothing tone "And in recent News, just following the death of great American hero Splendid by unnamed terrorists, news had just surfaced about the very factory he died in. Apparently upon further inspection brought about by leaked private files, Mr. Lumpy, owner and proprietor of 'Mondo Moose Co.' has been found guilty of purchasing slaves from other countries and using them in his factories. Mr. Lumpy faces a minimum of 28 years and a fine of 785,000 dollars. The recently freed slaves are being given the option to………"

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Well, I honestly was going to make a funny comment at the end, but this fight ended up being very serious. Just to clear a few things up, Mole's character was paritally based on Rorschach, from Watchmen, and partially on his character in "Mole in the City". Also, Mole writing in the journal in the beginning was not a joke, it was just showing that he did have vision once and while he can't read, he can still write. One more thing, this fight, and the entire series(if it continues) is based off of "See what developes" when Splendid was attempting to chase down The Mole. I thought it would make a good fight, and kind of got me thinking.

Next up, Buddhist Monkey VS Russell!


	2. Hell Frozen Over

**Author's Note**

Um, well, excuse my pun, but I'm getting "page fright". It's just, I've gotten such emotional responses to my last showdown and I wasn't really expecting that much of a reaction. It's really, "Uncanny". I'm just a little nervous that this one won't be a good as the first. But here we go!

**Fight Two: Hell Frozen Over (Cro-Marmot VS Sniffles)**

Scene, a dark and smoky office where an anteater sits at his desk, looking over a clipboard with heavy eyes. He seems troubled, as one in his position would. He has devoted ten years of his life to the various sciences in an effort to better understand the world, and today it nearly cost him the love of his life. He and his fiancée had gotten into yet another argument over his obsession with discovery, and it almost pained him to think of his reaction to her complaints

Earlier that day

"Sniffles! You promised, you can't just keep dangling me on like this!" A porcupine, around the age of 30 stood clutching her purse.

"Flaky, I'm sorry. At least my time and effort are going to a good cause!" Sniffles protested.

"A good cause? Our wedding is a good cause! Our love is a good cause, what about us? I've waited 5 years with you to get married!"

"But the organization of historical studies needs me to research this specimen, it could take months!"

"And it just happens to be delivered the month, no, the very week of our wedding?" She turned and unlatched the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To Petunia's, I'm spending the night at her house." Flaky said in a huff and walked out the door. But, before she was off the stoop, she turned and shouted once more at him. "And since you love that specimen so much you can go fuck it when you get lonely!"

Sniffles closed the door and turned, shaking his head as the sound of a car motor hummed away. He hated when she got like this. "I'm doing this for the betterment of every living creature, can't she understand this?" He asked aloud, and returned to his study, shutting the door behind him.

Currently

Sniffles gave once last sigh of regret and decided if he was alone for the night, the best he could do was begin his research. Clicking his ballpoint pen shut and placing the clipboard under his arm he headed out the small room and down the hall stairs, stopping at a metal door which led into the basement. He swung the door open and descended the illuminated staircase to his laboratory. The basement was enormous, modified with government money for his research, and housed numerous machines and experiments in which Sniffles, an accomplished scientist, had been using to benefit humanity. He strolled past the many mechanisms, a teleportation machine, a cryogenic preservation unit, a prototype android built in his image, all famous inventions or were soon to be. Finally, the busy anteater reached his destination, a metal door with a large latch on it. The door itself was frosted over on the outside, the cold latch icy to the touch.

Swinging it open, Sniffles gave a weak smile at the specimen and his companion tonight, a large caveman perfectly preserved in a block of ice. By some miracle he had been frozen and kept in peak condition for what must have been thousands of years. With a proud look on his face he took a small handcart from the corner refrigerated room and wheeled the enormous block of ice out on it. Within a few minutes, Sniffles had placed the caveman in front of a large machine, a precision laser, and stepped back to marvel at him. The creature, apparently a marmot or at least something that marmots had evolved from, appeared to have been caught off guard when he was frozen. Perhaps he was buried in an avalanche, or even attacked and left to die in the snow. The blood staining his fur tunic and the wide-eyed expression could lead to any number of conclusions, but tonight Sniffles would begin unraveling this mystery with his own two hands.

Stepping back, the astute anteater flipped a nearby switch, and several heat lamps illuminated the ice, warming it slowly. After a few minutes, Sniffles, satisfied with the results so far, walked up to a control panel and switched the laser's steady beam on. With a series of precise movements, the red hot beam sliced into the rock like ice without cutting fully through. The laser was only meant to weaken the ice and allow the heat lamps to melt it further; he could never risk harming the specimen by cutting too close to it. And, within mere seconds of the cutting, the melting blocks of ice slid off of each other, and finally the body, free of its icy prison, fell onto the cold, wet floor of the laboratory. Sniffles looked down to note the minimal physical damage and successful thawing of the specimen, when he heard a groan. Shocked, his eyes turned to the caveman who was steadily standing up staring at his own hands as if he had no idea where he was. Sniffles took a few steps towards the caveman, his astonishment duly noted on the clipboard along with the living caveman. The creature, only slightly more man than beast, looked up in surprise at the anteater, then his face took on a look of vicious malice as he leapt forward onto the frightened scientist. And then, for Sniffles, everything went dark,

"Why, why? This is the scientific opportunity of a lifetime, why did he attack me? Nothing but a brutish beast, no doubt."

Thoughts swirled in Sniffles head as he slowly sat up ad allowed his vision to steady. He was lying on the floor, an intense pain in his shoulder, and he saw the caveman, grinning madly at him only a few paces away. He opened his mouth slowly, and what began as a low growl from the caveman slowly formed words.

"Hello friend," His voice was terrifying, a deep throated growl backed with a horrific sentience and intellect. He spoke slowly, as if speaking was new to him.

"You, you can talk?" Sniffles asked, terrified with these new discoveries.

"Yes, I can. I most certainly can." He laughed, blood dripping from his wild fangs. "And now I suppose you'd like an oral history on my life, Mr. Scientist?" Sniffles attempted to stand up, but a vicious pain dug into his left shoulder, and he could only sit where he was.

"Ah, ah, ah. Please, stay where you are. It will be brief, and a learning experience. That's what you scientists are all about, right? Learning? Well, you see I was born around the time you know as the Neolithic Revolution, when the mighty hunters began to abandon their roots and become fat and weak. I was one of the greatest hunters, known across the land as Balrog the Mighty. I had slain beasts one could never imagine, pried myself out of death's maw on numerous occasions. And it was my philosophy, that survival was not only a life need, but an honor. Survive at all costs. Only the great will survive. I believed that the only way to survive was to waste nothing, and eat any meat that one could scavenge."

Sniffles' eyes took on a look of utter disgust and terror "You're, a cannibal?"

"I was a revolutionary thinker. You people reward thinkers now a day, don't you? But back then they had forsaken me. So I retreated to the mountains, feeding on wild beasts, and the occasional 'visitor.' Until the avalanche, then my hell started. Do you know what hell is? I guess you scientist types would believe nothing of the sort. Not without proof, of course. But I experienced it, hell on earth. Imagine, if you will, being sentient, awake, thinking, seeing and hearing. And yet, you cannot move, you cannot act upon anything, and you cannot die. I was awake, watching the earth in agonizing madness for thousands of years. Until fifty years ago, I was unearthed by you wonderful scientists. I traveled, in your care, to museums, labs, always frozen. You learn a lot by constantly observing the world around you, I picked up your language, and a few others. I learned philosophy, history, the arts, and math, yet one thing remained constant, my urge to feed. I needed food, and nothing surpassed the thrill and satisfaction of hunting down and feasting upon a hapless foe. And tonight, you will entertain me, won't you? I don't think you can change your mind, given that we've already started." The caveman laughed, and reached down to grab a blood soaked bone, meat falling off of it, and a familiar blue skin attached to it. Sniffles reached over to one side and felt nothing. His left arm was missing, wretched horribly from its socket, flesh and tendons horrifically torn loose.

In a fury, he screamed and ran from the machine he had used to thaw out the beast, and in his terror to escaped brought himself to his teleporter. The machine had been modified to teleport to around the lab, yet he hadn't used it in a while since Flaky complained he was "Gaining weight". The beast walked closely behind him, chuckling and dragging a large wooden club that had been frozen with him. Sniffles, horrified, had already figured out exactly where he needed to be, and in a flash, he was warped away from his attacker.

"Oh my, such a cheater you are. And after I gave you a head start too? Well, we won't be using this." He chuckled and bashed the club against the panel, the immense force shattering it instantly. He leaped upward, grabbing a hold of one of the many support beams lining the basement ceiling and pulled himself on top of it, dashing across the beam on all fours.

Meanwhile, Sniffles, having reached his destination, grabbed the small metal box lying near a machine and pulled out a small blowtorch. Now, there were medical kits scattered across the laboratory, but none were equipped to handle the loss of a limb. He gritted his teeth and slowly applied the bursting flame to his bloody stump to cauterize the wound. The heat was agonizing, but it soon stopped the bleeding, a great relief to the anteater.

Thoughts about what he would do next shot rapidly through his mind "I have to escape, but, I've teleported away from the exit. I couldn't make it there it time before he hunts me down. And I can't escape and leave him here, he's smarter than he looks, and this technology could do great harm in the wrong hands. He's too strong though, and just smart enough to counter everything I do, but, I need to stop him, and I just might know how to."

The beast, or Balrog as he claimed to be, ran wildly across the beams, the scent of fresh blood drawing him closer and closer to his prey, until he spotted a shadow of an anteater, standing out in the open. The shadow noticed him, and in a flurry of self preservation, fled. Balrog was too fast, though, and soon was lined up perfectly, and tackled Sniffles to the ground, the force causing them to slide underneath a large machine. He dug his fierce claws into the flesh of his prey, and was shocked when no blood poured from it. Instead, sparks shot from the cold, metallic body of the android that Sniffles had cleverly doused with his own blood. The true Sniffles stood only a few feet away at a panel, and with a grim scowl, flipped a switch powering up the machine above Balrog. A lifeless voice echoed over a loudspeaker to announce Sniffles' actions.

"Cryogenic preservation of sample beginning, please stay clear of machine while sample is preserved."

"NOOOOO!" Balrog let out a primal roar and threw the robot at Sniffles, but it was too late and a glass chamber closed over him. Sniffles, who had ducked to avoid his last attack, looked up just as a flash of energy bathed the lab in light. When it cleared, Balrog stood, his fists clenched in rage and in mid swing at his glass chamber which had already retracted back into the machine, and the primal beast was trapped in nearly an identical prison to his first.

Stepping back from the panel and taking in what he had done, Sniffles began to wonder. Was this malevolence that Balrog had embodied merely the product of his madness, or was it something else entirely? Had he absorbed so much intellect in the time he had been preserved that he realized morals were useless, and all that matters is survival and enjoyment in whatever sick, twisted ways one chose? Sniffles let out a deep sigh and pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket.

"Hello? Flaky? I'd like to apologize for what happened tonight. Yes, I know. I'm suspending my research, indefinitely. It seems like there's more to life than learning...

And perhaps there were things people were never meant to know……

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Well, there we have it. I'm still kinda nervous, but I ate a creampuff halfway through this, so that cheered me up. Here's hoping nothing goes horribly wrong and everyone likes this one too! Oh, and in case you're wondering, I named Cro-Marmot "Balrog" because I assumed he had some kind of caveman name before everyone started calling him Cro-Marmot and Balrog makes a much better villain name. Oh, and don't complain about the whole Sniffles and Flaky thing. Just a situational thing, and it's hardly important to the story, so there!

Next up, Pop VS Flippy!

Phoenix Reece, OUT!


	3. Hush Little Baby

**Author's Note**

**Warning, I'm a little ticked off, so this may be more of a rant, feel free to skip over this.**

Well, it's the first day of school, and I gotta vent. First off, my school completely changed the bus company, so we got some rookie driver and an inane route that stuffed practically a third of our 5,000 student school into one bus. Then, my insane science teacher handed me the periodic table of elements on the first day and told me "Memorize 35 of them, and our first test is two days from now." Then I make a joke and he tries to backhand me (Missing, fortunately for his ossified old ass,) and tells me "Play with me and you're dead". Man, my life would make a great TV show, it's the "typical nice guy who no one cares about" scenario. But hey, don't feel bad for me. I got tons of friends, a loving family, and a well paying job, and I really have no right shoving my problems in your faces, I'm sure you've got problems of your own. Just gotta blow of some steam, and I feel better. Back to the stories.

**Fight Three: Hush Little Baby(Pop vs Flippy)**

"God, where am I? what happened?" The bear slowly pulled his head off of the hardwood floors of his house. The light from the fireplace long gone, he had to trip across the living room, stabbing his feet on something on the darkness in the floor. Finally, the switch snapped up and a blinding light flooded the room, causing the bear, Pop as his name would be, to shield his eyes while rubbing his throbbing head. When he could finally see, he realized with a sharp pain what had happened, and kneeled down into the broken glass scattered across the floor, ignoring the pain as he dug through it to find the small, tattered photo. He was hung over, and his vision was blurry, but he could never mistake the photo of his late infant son, Cub. He must have binge drank himself into a blur, trying to forget the events of that day, just waking up at who knows when. The memories of it tore at him tenfold worse than those little shards of glass he willingly plunged his fingers into.

"The memories, I can hardly think. But, it was all so recent. Cub, I held his little hand, walked him out to the beach. We sat there happily, god why? WHY? I left, for just a second, he had wanted ice cream. I, I came back and he was gone. Someone ran off, I saw him, some green bear. He was holding a garbage bag. They," He began to break down into tears "They found him three days later. He was mutilated, thrown away like a piece of garbage. They took the last piece of my life away" He grabbed a fistful of glass, holding it tightly driving the pieces into his palm trying to edge away the emotion with physical pain. But to no avail, and he pulled his filthy body off of the ground and lurching over to the liquor cabinet, trying to find solace in a bottle. He was just about to touch the wide-necked rim of the whiskey to his lips, when he heard a crash.

The sound reverberated in his ears, and he knew someone was trying to rob him. He slowly crept towards the mantel, grabbing a shotgun he had used for hunting in his younger days and dropped to the floor. As the steps came closer, he crawled across the floor, desperate to reach the lockbox under his couch, where his ammunition lay. His head was under the couch, one arm outstretched to reach the box, just managing to unlock it, when he felt a tugging on his back, and was thrown violently against the window of the living room, shattering the glass of it and tearing away at his back. Pop finally saw his attacker clearly, a green bear clad in military fatigues and a green beret, clasping a knife grinning maliciously at him.

"No, NO! You're not taking anything else from me!" Pop reached behind him and tore out a piece of glass with his bare hand, and lunged at his attacker, slashing viciously. The green bear simply cackled and dodged everything thrown at him, and finally seeing his opportunity dug the knife into Pop's shoulder, but the old man was full of rage and alcohol and even this would not stop him. He rammed his shoulder into his attacker, knocking him hard into the liquor cabinet. The bear was stronger than he could comprehend, and was soon rushing him, and Pop only having time to grab the shotgun swung at his foe, knocking him backwards into the case of alcohol once again. This gave the weak and aging bear more time, and was finally able to load the shotgun, but his attacker was very familiar with firing arms, and charged his Pop, grabbing the barrel and pulling the lip of the gun to his side past his body. Pop, in desperation shot a shell, but the scattershot could only manage to hit the liquor cabinet behind the bear, splattering the alcohol across the back of the bear and over the floor. This didn't even phase the attacker, and he stared laughing into Pop's terrified eyes and thrust the butt of the gun into his chest, knocking him onto the floor.

"Listen you scum," The bear growled at him, "I'm gonna drown your entire village in flames for what you did to my fellow soldiers! I'm gonna bury every last one of you just like you did to my squad!"

"No, he's gonna kill me, just like he killed Cub!" He thought, scrambling on back as the bear slowly walked toward him, grinning toothily. Pop had just about given up hope when his fingers ran over something, something that would save his life. He pulled out the book of matches he had lit the fireplace with and desperately tried to strike a flame, finally the match head combusted, and he threw the tiny flame at the bear's feet. Within seconds the alcohol soaked soldier burst into a ball of flame, screaming in agonizing death throws falling backward into the puddle of mixed liquor, further combusting his corpse. Pop who had been staring at horror at his own actions, dashed madly out of the house, clutching madly to the picture, daring not to let the flames so much as scorch the last remaining shred of his son. Finally clear of the flames, Pop fell onto his knees and watched as the house burned to ashes, along with the bear.

One Week Later

Another shot rang over the cemetery, and finally one more sounded over the hills as the soldiers took their weapons and marched away, leaving the coffin to be grieved by the sole member of Flippy the late mass murder's family. She was young, around the age of 14 or so, a blue bear with pure eyes drying her tears.

Pop stood nearby, dressed in black, hanging his head to let his hat cover his eyes. "Why am I here? This man killed my son, but, I can't seem to get over the guilt of it all. Did I really justify anything? He approached the girl slowly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, about what happened." Pop said to her.

She looked up slowly, tears still staining her vision. "You're that man, aren't you? The one that.." She covered her eyes.

"I, I didn't want to, but he would have killed me and many others if I…"

"He had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He served in the war, and it made him crazy. He doesn't know what happens sometimes, and he never meant to kill your son, if my apology means anything for him."

"It does, but I'd like to speak to your parents, apologize on my behalf."

"I don't have any; my brother was my only family." Pop looked into the sweet young bear's eyes and saw Cub. He knew what had to be done.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" Pop said, "I don't have my own house, but my brother Disco Bear is pretty well to do, I'm sure he'd let you stay."

"Really? Could you live with a constant reminder of your dead son?" She still refused to look at him. Pop turned her around and brushed her black hair out of her eyes and looked at her comfortingly.

"It's better than living alone, isn't it?" And Pop took the young bear's hand, feeling as though he had been given another chance to be a father.

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Well, I wasn't too sure how I'd end this one, the other ending I had thought of was that Pop, after killing Flippy, couldn't take the grief of killing another bear on top of losing his son and blew his own brains out while singing "Hush little baby", but I decided to feature Fridix95's Eloise as Flippy's younger sister and have him take her into his home when her brother was dead and she had nowhere else to turn. Kind of a happier ending, no?


	4. Dead Silence

**Author's Note**

Well, here it is, my next big showdown. And I'd like to give a quick thanks before we go to Meowth's Toon Dragon for this story. He gave me the idea for today's match-up, as well as the PPG episode "Abracadaver" which helped give me an idea for a twist on this fight. So please enjoy….

** Fight Four: Dead Silence (Disco Bear vs Mime)**

Six o' Clock PM, November twenty-third 2009

"What're ya, a coward? Too chicken to go into the old fairground, even for fifty bucks?" The rabbit had dared him. He knew Disco would never go into the fairgrounds out of trauma caused years back, and even on a cold night like this he would take the long route around the fairgrounds on his way home from the bar. "C'mon, Disco the Mighty! Let's see what you're made of! Pass through the fairground on your walk home, and put your hand mirror in the center of the main tent, then tomorrow morning I'll give you the cash!" Cuddles laughed on, along with the other bar patrons who had begun taunting him, and he soon cracked. Though no one knew exactly what had made Disco take the dare, some blame the alcohol he was drinking, some the temptation of fifty dollars, but now he stood outside the rusted gates of the run-down fairgrounds of Happy Tree Town

11:45 PM, November twenty-third 2009

The conversation played over and over in Disco's head, trying to figure out where he went wrong. He should have never agreed to this, after what had happened here it would be a sin to return, after all that. He was only ten years old at the time, but the images of the past still stuck in his mind like the bitter taste of the vodka he had been sipping earlier that night. He pushed the gates open with a creek, and as if the sound of it were some psychological trigger, he began to remember that faithful day in full

1:23 PM, November twenty-fourth 1974

His mother's hand was tugging on his as she led him through the fair. His parents had been recently divorced, and in an attempt to cheer up Disco, only ten, his mother had taken him to the fair. Disco couldn't care less about fried treats and attractions, though, and hung his head in despair of losing his father.

"Oh, cheer up honey, let's try and have fun. It's not every day the carnival is in town!" She said, enjoying herself more than her son.

"I don't wanna! It's not fun without daddy!" Disco stood in place and stomped his feet on the ground, refusing to move.

"Oh, come on now, if you don't cheer up we're going home. Oh, look! He's doing balloon animals," She pointed to a mime, cheerily balancing himself on a unicycle while tying up balloons for the crowds of children around him. "Over here, Mr. Mime! My son would like one!" She called and the Mime smiled as he placed a balloon hat on one of the children and rode over to the melancholy boy. The mime twirled his hands in a flurry and soon had a perfect balloon giraffe and a round balloon hat to fit over the young boy's afro. He placed the hat on him, and tried to hand him the giraffe, but the boy tossed off his hat and threw the giraffe to the ground, storming off from his mother.

"Just leave me alone!" He shouted, running off towards the main tent. His mother, shocked, apologized to the mime,

"It's not you, he's having a bad day. I'm very sorry!" and she hastily ran off in her son's direction. Mime, saddened by his rejection, almost fell of his unicycle when he had an idea, and wheeled over to a nearby stand, pantomiming an order.

When his mother found Disco, the event in the main tent was just starting. He had taken a seat in the highest row to watch the lion tamer, oddly satisfied. His mother smiled just to see him content, and sat next to him,

"Feeling better?" She asked.

"Lions are my favorite," Disco smiled, but his face turned sour "But I'm still angry, at you and that stupid mime!" And he turned to watch the show.

His mother scowled, but she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to find the same jolly mime, balanced on his unicycle holding a candy apple. She smiled and got her son's attention. "Honey, I think someone wants to give you something" But when Disco turned to see the same mime, he was furious. In some kind childish fit, he rejected the very sight of him, and jumped over his mother to push the mime away. But the shock of it caused the mime to fall off balance, falling from his unicycle and tumbling violently down the seemingly endless flight of stairs. The agonizing snapping of his bones as he fell was terrifying for the young boy, but the part that scarred him most was that even as the mime tumbled to his death, he wouldn't scream. The people in the crowd simply stared in horror as the mime finally landed at the bottom of the flight of stairs, neck first, lying on his back. Blood pooled in his gaping mouth, rigor mortis causing him to grip the candy apple endlessly, and his colorful watch had been stopped by the impact of the fall: 1:30 on the dot.

12:03 AM, November twenty-fourth 2009

And here he stood, the very tent where the horror happened, his murder at age 10. Disco felt sick just standing there, and walked with a hurried pace through the darkened tent. It was pitch-black in the tent, save for the patches of tent that had been torn and tattered over the years, letting in moonlight. He pulled the hand mirror from his pocket, stopping in a patch of moonlight to examine his own face. It was unusually pale, and his eyes seemed twitchy, almost definitely from fear. He was just ready to move on when he heard a creaking and leapt. He turned around, and began darting his eyes around the tent. The creaking was consistent, and accompanied by the slicing of air, as if something was passing along a set, no, a single rusted wheel. Finally, a ghastly apparition wheeled itself out of the inky blackness not ten feet from Disco. It was the same mime, the very one he had killed all those years back. It's very body was shattered all over, blood gushing from wounds caused by broken bones, one hand outstretched, almost beckoning him. The other hung limp, a candy apple clenched in a dead hand, and his head was slumped over, as if his neck was shattered, but he still found a will to live.

The monstrosity began to wheel slowly over to Disco, it's one arm reaching out towards him to grab and tear at his flesh. Finally, Disco's terrified legs had caught life, and he sprinted away from the mime, grabbing frantically at the darkness until he found something to hold. The pole for the tightrope walkers spun into the sky, and in a terrified frenzy, Disco began to climb it. He had heard once in an old quote, "You must ascend from the darkness to survive" and almost felt safe when he had reached the top, moonlight shining down on him through a hole in the black curtain covering his hell. Then, his eyes caught sight of the opposite stand, and recoiled in terror. The mime stood on his unicycle, and began riding it across the rope. His figure darted in and out of the light, becoming closer with each passing second.

Disco, realizing what he had to do, took his hand mirror had shattered it against the wooden floor, grabbing a piece of glass to saw away at the rope. He cut furiously, the glass cutting away at his hands, the sound of the unicycle drawing ever closer. But finally the rope gave a satisfying snap, followed by a heavy thud of a large body hitting the ground. He sighed in relief, but turned to find none other than his nightmarish tormenter standing right behind him,

and then everything became darkness and terror.

November Twenty-fourth 2009

Cuddles and his friends walked laughing into the tent, light flooded into it by the day, and approached the center ring. Their laughter became sheer terror though, when they found the center of the stage. A battered and beaten Disco lay in the center of it, his hand mirror, although broken, had been planted in the ground nearby. Cuddles slowly approached the body and lifted his arm to check his pulse, finding a rusted watch on his hand. He checked his own watch and was terrified to find it was the same time; 1:30 PM.

And clutched in his other hand, covered in ants, was a candied apple.

--------------------------------

Ah yes, another successful story. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs (or anything else, for that matter) bite!

This has been Phoenix Reece, wishing you a restful slumber.


	5. Sea Captain's Lament

**Author's Note**

Y'know, it seems like writing a great story is easy with these showdowns. I don't know why, but they seem to come out much better written than my other Fics.

…..

That's the part where you're supposed to say "But Phoenix, I think all your fanfics are well written!"

……….

It's alright; I understand you don't like lying to a friend. But, my self-inflicted comedy still works well, don't you think?

……………………………………………………………

Okay, I'm gonna write my story now…..

**Fight Five: Sea Captain's Lament(Buddhist Monkey Vs Russel)**

Enter scene on a small village, peaceful, rural, and right over the hill from the ocean. The sun was shining, and a nice ocean breeze cooled the villagers on the warm summer day. Yes, it was another peaceful day in 快乐的 树 village, Buddhist monkey was hurrying through the marketplace shouldering two large buckets of water. He dashed across the dirt road swiftly, as if the twenty pound loads on his shoulders were non-existent. The cheery look of peace and inner light was alive and well in his eyes, and a calm smile drifted along his face.

"Hey, Monkey boy, Need a bite?" a voice, familiar, called from one of the shops. He turned to find Jori-Lee, a panda mother holding her baby in a burlap pouch on her back. She grinned warmly while holding out a small crab-cake. Monkey, always hungry because of his training, snatched up the snack and tossed it into his mouth, speaking with his mouth full.

"Thanks, Jori. I see you're still feasting on crab, you've done very well for yourself recently."

She giggled "Oh, have I? I think you of all people would know, after all, my good fortune was your donation."

"I told you, don't thank me, thank Char Sew. Now, if you'll excuse me!" He turned to run off in towards his destination, but Pei-Ling called him once again.

"Hey, take these, I've got plenty. " She handed him a bundle of crab cakes "Are you off to visit Master O's grave again?"

"Yeah, I figured I'd get in my morning exercises out of the way and water his flowers. I might even leave him a few of these!" He tossed another cake in his mouth, and ran off towards the village shrine. It was a ways off from the village, near the forest on the leeward end, away from the ocean. It was a large stone monolith, housed in a wooden box with an elaborate gilded roof. The shrine acted as a mass grave for the remembrance of dead villagers who's loved ones had their names inscribed on the slate. Monkey, setting the heavy buckets down, placed a few of the crab cakes on the foot of the shrine and kneeled in prayer for a few minutes, reflecting on his late master. Then he calmly took the buckets and pulled a small wooden spoon from his robes, watering the abundant flowers that mourners had left in elaborate and beautiful vases. When he was finished, Monkey calmly kneeled before the shrine and began to count his breaths. Meditation was a favorite skill of the monks of the village, known to give spiritual, mental, and physical rejuvenation. There he sat, in the tranquility of nature for what seemed like minutes, but in actuality it was truly hours.

"9,998….9,999….10,000." About an hour in, he reached his goal, then began again. "10,000….9,999…9,998…."

……….

Meanwhile, just as Buddhist Monkey had arrived at his destination, the fisherman had headed out for their daily run around the surrounding sea. The only ships out were small fishing vessels, the one furthest out was piloted by a strong fisherman and his sons. He was a burly sort, a strong fox with a slit across his face and bristly whiskers jutting out of his chin. He stood out on the front of the vessel, as his three sons sat joking about old fisherman's tales, mostly the ones starring their father.

"His scar was his most famous, even better than the shark tooth necklace" The tallest one said, "He got it in a fight with a kraken, and the other fisherman said so."

" Yeah right, I heard from the fisherman who was with him that day, it was a saw toothed great white! Tore right into him and split his boat in two!" a shorter, chubbier fox said.

"Nuh-uh, daddy told me himsewf!" The youngest, probably no older than eight chimed in, "He got hit wit a cut-less by a pie-rate!" The two older brothers immediately rejected this theory, thinking half the words their youngest brother spoke were made up entirely.

"Yeah right! What's a cut-less anyhow, some kinda fish?"

"And there ain't no such thing as a pi-rat! All rats eat is grain!"

Finally, their father had had enough, and boomed at the two eldest boys "GON! PON! Your brother Kon is right! I told him that story and it's the truth. I got this scar from a pirate."

The chubby brother, Gon, was shaking at his father's voice, but dared to ask "Bu-but what's a pi-rat, and a cut-less?"

"Sons, before I settled down with your mother, I was a seafaring man and I traveled with many a foreign ship. These fellows called the British were an alright sort, though they dressed funny, they were trustworthy and had powerful weapons called flintlocks. These were like a sling, only it shot a metal stone with a great explosion" he had only just begun, but the boys were enthralled. We traveled the seas until we ran afoul some pirates. Now, pirates are like bandits that travel the sea and steal from other ships. There was an enormous battle, cannons, which are like big old flintlocks and twenty times as strong, started blasting and one got in real close and cut me with a long curved sword called a cutlass! And that's where I got me scar from. 'Course, I beat that old pirate good and lived to tell the tale." The father puffed out his chest triumphantly and laughed, but his sons had a gaze of terror locked on something behind their father. Finally, one of the sons, Pon, spoke up

"D-dad, do p-p-p-p-pirates travel in big wooden ships, like that one?" He pointed to an enormous clipper ship that had sailed up close, dwarfing the small, three man vessel the four men had to share.

Their father looked shocked, but let out a hardy laugh. "No no no, me boyos! That's a trading ship like the one's I traveled on. Haven't seen one of these in a while! It looks a French one to be exact, see the flag up on the mast there. AHOY! Anyone up there?" He shouted, and a clanking of wood and a heavy object on wheels could be heard as the captain approached the railing. He was an otter, pale skinned with blood shot eyes. Eye, actually, he had only one. And a hook where his right hand should be, along with a wooden peg for his left foot. The oddest thing about this stranger though, was the thick linked chains wrapped around him that had long since rusted and the enormous metal barrel beside him.

" I told ya they dressed weird," The father whispered to his sons.

"D-dad," The youngest spoke up, "Is that thing a cannon? Like, the ones that make big explosions?"

"Yes son, it is, but don't worry. A trading ship only has them to defend themselves, they'd never-" But he was cut off by a familiar sound, the striking of a match. The captain held the lit flame above the small opening in the steel monster, dropping it in to ignite the gunpowder. The father had not a second to react before the beast roared out steel and pure fire into the unwitting family of fisherman, killing them instantly.

The otter simply drew a false smile, hardly satisfied with anything anymore. A tune popped into his head and he sang sullenly while moving the other cannons into place.

"Oh, better far to live and die, under the brave black flag I fly, than play a sanctimonious part with a pirate head and a pirate heart. Away to the cheating world go you…."

……

It was around sunset when Monkey's daily training by his master's shrine was complete and he could return to his small hut in the village. He placed the two buckets upon his shoulders once again, hardly difficult being they were both empty, and sprinted off in the direction of the village. About halfway there, though, he saw smoke on the horizon, and quickened his pace. He had been gone for a while, and was terrified to think that there might have been another ninja attack on the village in his absence. But when he arrived, the destruction present could be nothing short total destruction, something even the most skilled ninja could not accomplish. Craters were dug into the ground by what appeared to be pitch-black meteors, the shops were all leveled and still smoking. Bodies lay in heaps among the dirt road that spilt the town in two, and far off on the horizon, a giant ship was slowly sailing away.

"M-Monkey Boy, is that you?" A withered voice rang from one of the collapsed shops. Monkey ran over and pushed the collapsed beams out of the way to find a broken and beaten Jori-Lee, clutching her frightened baby.

"What happened here Jori? Who did this?" He asked, kneeling to meet the weak woman's gaze.

She coughed, and spoke slowly "That ship, that leviathan monster drove into our harbors and destroyed our ships with enormous barrels of fire. Then, it pulled along side the village and began firing on the village. The women and children fled, and the men stayed to defend our homes, but I couldn't find little Zhu," She looked down at her baby. " He must have gotten away while I was tending the shop, and by the time I found him we didn't have time to escape, so we hid. Oh god, it was terrible. The fire and brimstone rained from the heavens and tore them to pieces. I, I just feel so powerless." And Jori, unable to take anymore, held her baby close and cried.

It was then Monkey felt it taking over him again, the rage and the raw power he worked so hard to repress He held his hands to his chest in a prayer like position and began muttering to himself.

"爱"

"光"

"生命"

"好运"

The prayer was meant to find peace and calm his raging soul, but it was too late. His eyes took on a jaded look, his mouth clenched in anger. He began to levitate over the ground and turned to the sea, where the ship was slowly escaping. He shot out like an arrow towards the wooden beast and tore into the hull of the ship, bursting out from under the floor. He floated above, where he spied only one man on a ship that could house fifty. He was a worn and beaten man, with no tolerance for anyone who wished to make his life more miserable.

He threw his arms in the air and shouted "So, God? Is this it? After the hell you've put me through you send a mercy angel to end poor captain Russell's life? Taking pity on me, are you? Well, tell God when you get to the pearly gates" His voice was now directed at Monkey, "I don't need his mercy!"

But Monkey patience was already being tried by the furious sea captain rant about god, and charged him with all his might, but the old salt was faster than he seemed, and pulled a shining metal barrel from his pocket, a blunderbuss. A hail of grapeshot tore into Buddhist Monkey's chest and he was sent spiraling backwards, crashing into the railing of the ship. But before the skilled monkey could react, Russell was attacking with an enormous curved sword. The fine edged blade could only slice Monkey's robes as he leapt to one side and delivered a furious punch to his ribs, sending the pirate tumbling to the opposite railing. The monk walked slowly, the very ship shaking with the energy of each of step, as the pirate fished in his coat pockets for another weapon, pulling out a crudely made grenade. He struck a match across his body and lit the fuse, tossing it at his attacker. Monkey was ready this time, and caught the explosive with a psychic grasp and lobbed it back at its owner. The explosion crippled Russell, giving him no way of escaping, but he had nothing left to lose and wouldn't give up this fight. He pulled a flintlock pistol from his coat and fired, striking Monkey's eye. The monk recoiled in pain and the captain limped over towards his cannon, pulling the heavy rusted chains from his body. He loaded them into the barrel and aimed it at the still immobile Monkey, firing with an explosion of gunpowder. The chains tore at the warrior's flesh and wrapped around him in a crushing vice grip. He fell to his knees and watched in vain as the Pirate captain slowly dragged a cannon ball over to finish him off laughing as he did.

"Now, I'm a man of mercy, young whelp. And I'll slaughter you peacefully, so _you_ don't have to endure any suffering. Now, bid farewell, and send my love to my poor sea chell when you cross over to the other side." He dropped a lit match into the ignition hole and the hundred pound black orb shot at the helpless monkey, leaving him with only one thing to do. Buddhist Monkey, began to focus. Focus deeply until the earth slowed to a crawl and he could analyze the threat at hand. He stared straight at the cannonball, what once was a lighting strike had been slowed to a snail's pace and Monkey began to focus even more. White energy began crackling from his mind into the cannonball, until it began rotating the opposite way. It spun faster and faster and when the sea captain realized what was going on, it was too late. His own munitions had been turned against him and the cannon ball pinned his torso to the wall of the ship, next to the door to the deeper sections of the ship.

Monkey approached Russell, who was barely alive, but without another word the captain pulled out another pistol, firing into skull, as if to say "I won't let you claim my life, or save it." The young monk frowned at the sight of the dead captain, and closed his eyes with two gentle fingers. He was curious as to why the captain was alone, and why he had chosen to attack such a peaceful village, and decided he would descend into the lower hulls of the ship. It was dark, but in the sunlight that flickered through he found a candle, and ignited it with a snap of his fingers. With the added light Monkey found he was treading on a floor nearly carpeted with corpses of other pirates. They all seemed to have died of starvation, or sickness, but some were wounded as if in a mutiny. He set the candle on a nearby desk, and found a small journal. Running his finger across the page, he could make out faded words.

1st mate Chippy's log

February 20th 1789

We have just begun our first voyage of the year, a simple trading mission that will last us a few months. We plan on passing around the coast of Africa, around to South America, then we'll make a stop in the Jamaican Islands. It should be a relatively easy trip, but that won't stop the old captain from sayin' his farewells like it was his last day on this earth. Ah, how he loves that Michelle girl, we still joke about that nickname he gave her, "My little Sea Chell" Who'da thunk a captain like him would ever marry such a beautiful noble like her? But anyhow, the boat out of Paris is just about leaving and god knows Russell don't care for no late sailors

May 15th 1789

We've made land in Africa; the sailing's been smooth as glass. Though, I've been speaking with a couple other sailors who've been chatting about the seas and there's been talk of a revolution stirring among the people of France. But, I didn't tell the captain, he's a nervous wreck whenever it comes to Michelle and if he had even an inkling that she was in trouble he'd haul the crew about face and send us home so he could see she was alright. I just pray that Michelle's alright, as much for our sake as hers.

July 23rd 1789

Dash it all to hell! Damn my loose lips, why oh why did I have to tell him? There was a revolt, a revolution in France! The mad barbarians slaughtered every noble they could get their hands on, and Michelle was not but another meal for the guillotine! The captain's eyes took on a glassy pale look and he ordered us back into the sea, but a horrific storm's a brewin'! We should have never left; he'll be the death of us.

September 18th 1789

We're wanted men, now. We can't return to civilization after what we've done. We were low on supplies, and we still hadn't docked since that storm. The captain ordered us to attack a friendly British ship, and we were starved and frenzied. God damn it all, I slaughtered an innocent man! We've become what we've always feared, Pirates. We've got enough supplies to last us a good month, but we shan't last another two weeks in this condition.

November 12th 1789

The captain's gone mad. He's attacked and killed three crewmates who've tried to convince him to turn back, but he just keeps steering us in circles. We can't stop him now, in the dead of night he chained himself to the steering wheel, blunderbuss in hand, and refuses to move. Men are beginning to flake off from disease, and a few escaped in a lifeboat with a few rations. I'm going to swim it, there's nothing left to do. Death would be a mercy at this point.

The words came to an end, and without a word Buddhist Monkey closed the leather bound journal and ascended the steps to the surface.

_Winter_

Snow fell gently, a beautiful blanket of frost covered the landscape. The shrine where Monkey's master was immortalized was no exception to the natural tranquility of the land. Footsteps leading to and from the slate rock were the only traces of humanity, aside from the shrine itself. On it was placed a small offering, an elaborate dish with three crab cakes and crudely scratched in it were the casualties of the spring. But, in the Chinese calligraphy stood out two names near the bottom in an English script.

_The lovers_

_Russell and Michelle_

_-------------------------_

YIKES! I, I don't know what happened there. I've never written such a long chapter, but bear with me as I tell you a few more things. This is the last showdown I actually had planned out, but I'm willing to take a few suggestions if you've got 'em. Any two unlikely HTFs you'd like to see throw down?

Go ahead, suggest Flaky. I know you were thinking it.

Flaky: Hey, I think I deserve to have a starring role in one of your stories, especially after that last thing you said about me! A lawn chair handcuff dance, clad in bubble wrap? I mean, it's sexist, crude and shameful! I have never been more insulted in all my life! I think you deserved nothing short of my urine in your mouth. And I bet you got some sick kick off of that didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? Well, that's just fine, a shameful fetish for a shameful man. I mean, do you have any dignity at all?

Me: *Staring blankly at her chest* No, I totally agree. I can't believe Cuddles suggested to do that to you while Giggles licked you and I watched. *Is hit with another jar of urine* OH GOD WHY!?!?!

Flaky: Anyway, I'm still getting paid to be here, so don't forget to review and check out Phoenix's latest poll to decide what he'll write next. So goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow!


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